


and the town had its eyes (on me)

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Canon - Manga, Canon Compliant, Canon Het Relationship, Character Study, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 05:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14489703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: Six Death Scythes and one decision.Marie Mjolnir sits at the table with her God, with her friends, with all who think she is made of mercy, and bestows judgement on Justin Law.





	and the town had its eyes (on me)

_"In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet, for just a moment:_  
_a yellow sky"  
~Lin-Manuel Miranda_

* * *

They think she is sweet. Tender, even. Made of sugar and honey, her hair soft, her eye warm. They think she is the kind of woman who yields, comes apart at the seams once thought invisible. They think she is sunlight unfiltered, gold.

That is why Tezca looks at her when he pleads, she knows. That is why he urges.

The table she sits at is heavy as the atmosphere, dark and serious. Death sits at the head, quietly regarding the Death Scythes. There are, of course, the select three star meisters to observe, likely to act as tie-breakers in the case the weapons cannot decide amongst themselves. But, for once, their opinion is secondary. Here is a table of steel and snarl.

Save for her, of course.

Ever save for her.

Tezca plants his hand on the table as he stands, again. “You all feel free to condemn a 16 year old boy to his death?”

“He’s a murderer, Tezca,” Azusa points out, rationally. Cool and calculating as a knife. Sometimes, Marie believed she was born the wrong weapon.

“That has never enacted the death penalty, before!”

“I agree,” Jinn says, quietly. His voice is that of a whisper of wind. “He is but a boy.”

“Are we to claim we tolerate the slaughter of our own?” Azusa fired back. “Is he old enough to fight for Death but not old enough to claim responsibility for his actions?”

“That isn’t our business to decide,” Tezca replied, leaning forward.

“It is, actually,” Azusa claimed, evoking the cleanest memory of being a ten year old know-it-all girl in a crisp cotton skirt and shined mary janes. “Why else sit here?”

Jinn leaned back in his chair, leaning over to whisper something to Dengu. Azusa was sitting ramrod straight, her hands folded before her, glasses gleaming, no longer a ten year old, but young young young, still. Spirit, of all people, seemed to be most on the fence about the entire ordeal. Surely, the fact that Justin was a scant few years older than his baby girl was tugging at his heartstrings.

Here they were, the jury.

Piss poor.

Marie, for her part, says nothing, reacts to nothing. Their meisters sit on the side, looking on nervously, and she has felt more than one pair of eyes settle uncomfortably on her, likely wondering why she was so silent. Has felt only one pair of eyes that does not make her wish to raise her shoulders up to her jaw, ready to fight.

“Hey, Azusa, maybe we should show some. . .I dunno, leniency?” Spirit offered, appearing and sounding conflicted. “Rehabilitation instead of. . .murder?”

“Murder is unjustified, Spirit,” Azusa responded, adjusting her glasses. “This would be justice.”

“I mean. . .shit, Committee. . .he’s a _kid._ We’d kill him for killing someone else. How is that justice?"

“He is dangerous,” Dengu said, finally, and the silence that settled after the statement was crystalline.  
  
“We’re _all_ dangerous,” Spirit said, quietly, but it was as though he had said nothing at all. Marie felt his green green gaze settle upon her in a side-eye, the kind he’d give when they were but children themselves, sitting at tables as schoolboys and schoolgirls who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved, to fight and be victorious, to live. To _live._ How Marie wanted so deeply to live as a girl, to bring joy, to bring _light._

She does not look back at Spirit. She is not his conspirator any longer. Not after he fucked other women and broke Kamiko’s heart, not after he stopped understanding any of them, not after she has sided with a man who broke him so easily.

“. . .he’s just a _boy_ ,” Tezca whispered, falling into his seat. Surely, being Justin’s only true advocate proved how alone he was. “Shit, Stein cut up Spirit for years and we didn’t fucking kill _him.”_

At that, and only at that, did Marie turn her gaze upon Tezca, and he flinched from something that must have played on her face. Death looked between the two of them, clearing his throat.

“Has everyone come to a decision?” he asked, and Marie knew what Tezca must have been thinking. Spirit and Jinn were both on his side. And, surely, _surely¸_ little Marie Mjolnir, ever the personification of love would err on the side of leniency. He took in a deep breath. Slowly, the Death scythes all nodded, coming down the line.

Azusa, as always, as ever, was first. “My vote is to enact justice.”

Tezca stared at her. “Mercy.”

Jinn nodded. “Mercy.”

Spirit chewed on his lip, looking at Marie before he took a deep breath. “Mercy. I think we should rehabilitate him. Find some. . .some way to help him.”

Dengu, however, shook his head even as Tezca made a grateful sound. “No. Justice.”

How simple life could be when it hid behind such weighty words. How easy.

Marie knew. She knew she was a hypocrite, wore it with pride the way she did when she thought she would go back to Joe, even after he left her so long ago in New Zealand and gave no answers. But, now, there was no Joe. She did not bury his body. She slept with his supposed murderer in the desert and came quickly and returned for more. She is guilty in something, sleeping with a man guilty of other sins, though not this one.

Not this one.

So, finally, finally, they all looked at her. For it rested upon her shoulders whether a tie-breaker would be enacted. But a tie-breaker was a bullshit way to consider it. With only three meisters sitting to the side, all likely to vote the way their partner’s did, Justin’s fate rested within Marie’s hands. There was no doubt that Alexandre and Zubaidah would vote with their weapons, leaving it to Stein. And Stein would vote with Marie, always, ever. Stein would side with her as she would side with him, no matter the cost, whether noose or salvation.

Marie was the final gate. But she was not malicious when she finally spoke. She was not bitter, or furious. She was not hellfire. Perhaps she should be. Perhaps they would think it were revenge if she was, instead of cruelty. For how could she wander the world with Stein when she had every reason to believe he’d been a murderer, had killed Joe, but condemn Justin for it without a second though? No, surely, not Marie. Never Marie.

No, they think she is sweet. They think she is kind and lovely and merciful. They forget she is lightning, forget she is a natural disaster distilled in a woman. And nature, for all its kindness, will demolish without justification, will destroy indiscriminate.  
  
And she is not indiscriminate. She is a _storm._

She looks at Tezca, does not break her gaze as she opens her mouth, so often done to dole out reassurances. The room is airless, dreary, but Tezca is hopeful, and she sees, from the very corners of her eye, that Spirit has turned to look at Stein, as though wanting a sneak of the verdict.

He does not need to. Marie’s choice is hers.

“I’ll kill him myself,” she says.

And down comes _her_ gavel, guiltless: a guillotine.

**Author's Note:**

> So. . .it's been a while?


End file.
